


Hit the Showers

by Shatterpath



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Glee - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt: Voyeur Sue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit the Showers

**Author's Note:**

> Author notes: While this isn't my first shot at this fandom, the first one is stalled out at best. *glares at other fic* So, instead, I took the masochistic approach and try 1st person POV with Sue Sylvester. Clearly, I have been damaged in the head… Enjoy the madness!

There are days when even my considerable fortitude is tested by the mewling spawn of hell that fills this asylum with its stink. This place is purgatory, a stone shackled to my greatness where only sheer will keeps me the head cheese, leader of the pack, the only thing that separates James McKinley High from utter obscurity.

The brassy gleam of success is my reward, the terror and obedience that wear my colors, bear my standard, win my trophies. Only the stupid and foolish mock the name Cheerios.

All of these are only temporary setbacks, even the possible secession of my own to that blasted little club! Every little riff of music grates now, reminding me of the Gleeks, those pesky burrs under my glossy saddle.

Now I need someone to yell at and my spies in the Glee Club are as good as any. Actually, Santana and Brittany are perfect. After all, I can't have them defecting for real now can I?

The practice rooms are quiet, at least as quiet as the empty school and now I'm into the hunt. After hours or no, there will be some stupid child lingering that I can strike fear into.

Running water?

Bet those practices get a little sweaty. Hmmm…

Perfect.

Oh, I realize that my peers, such as the so-called adults in this hellhole think they are, think that there are rules in dealing with these teenage hellions, but I'm above that.

Still, it never hurts to be careful. The leader of the pack always has to be wary of those who would usurp her.

There are sounds amidst the water that might be human. One can never be sure in this place. So, against my better nature, I put it in stealth mode and see if I can't sneak up on the runt.

Now, I'm pretty unflappable. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that. But I have to admit that this makes me blink.

Not one runt, but two. And I'm pretty certain that this sort of teamwork isn't covered in Schuster's class. Cocking my head off, I examine the tableau, curious if my own eyes aren't playing tricks on me. Might the fallen Quinn have some sort of doppelganger? After all, she's already done some amazingly stupid things that have ousted her from the top of the food chain. Maybe an evil twin can be blamed.

Head thrown back, she's the one making the almost human noises that the roaring shower is trying to cover. Leaning against the wall, covered in water droplets, in no surprise that her headlights are on in the cool air.

But the Berry kid kneeling between her thighs doing things I'm fairly certain that the Celibacy Club would disapprove of does surprise me. 'Course my former team captain has already screwed up; the baby bump is reminder of that.

Hmmm…. What to do? Part of me is horrified that Quinn has fallen so far, to be getting sexual favors from that pushy dwarf, but part of me admires their _cojones_ for doing this at all. Now, I could interrupt them and scare the living hell out of them, ensuring my supremacy for all time, but what's the point? It's not like I can kick Quinn any lower than she is and that damn Berry kid is made of stern stuff. I won't have this situation directed back at me.

It's not worth it.

Crying out even louder now, Quinn peaks out, nearly falling, and Rachel, yep, it's her, catches the taller girl before she completely collapses. With surprising tenderness they hug there, nuzzling like sweet little puppies.

Gag.

Quinn's hands are wandering now and I think it's best that I retreat. No, not a retreat; I never retreat. This is a strategic withdrawal. If those girls are stupid enough to carry on like that, well, it's only a matter of time before they dig their own graves.

I wish them luck.


End file.
